


Reprise

by scheherazade



Category: Tenimyu RPF
Genre: M/M, not tagging because spoilers, so many background pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a first time for everything.</p><p>[Set during the Final Match Rikkai 1st musical run.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprise

**Author's Note:**

> For story purposes, there is no double-casting in this musical; ShitenB are the only Shitenhouji cast, and Rikkai supporting cast don't exist (sorry Micchan, ilu). There may or may not be a follow-up fic set during Final Match Rikkai 2nd and Dream Live 7th.
> 
> This fic is technically a sequel(ish) to [All Bets Are Off](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3836074), but you don't need to have read that first.
> 
> Infinite thanks to [acchikocchi](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi), queen of rabbits, for all the cheerleading and enabling and also for reading this entire thing multiple times and doing a heroic last-minute editing job. <3

 

Kane puts his head down on the table. "My life is over,” he concludes, forlorn. “This is how my life ends."

Masa reaches over his head to snag another piece of tofu. “My condolences to your family.”

Genki pours more tea. "Have you written up a will?"

Baba uses his napkin to dab at a bit of tofu that has fallen on Kane's hair. "Have you considered just telling him?"

Kane makes a garbled sound into the tabletop.

"You think he actually has a shot?" Genki asks.

"Sleeping with cast mates is a bad idea," Masa says.

Baba gives him a pointed look. "Better to know for sure."

Masa shrugs. "It's his funeral." He scarfs down the rest of his rice. "Chin up, Kane-chan. You probably have the senpai-worship thing going for you. Though with that age difference, it might as well be daddy issues."

Kane lifts his head to glare at all of them. "I have nothing going for me. And that’s fine. This is fine, so just let it be fine. If anyone asks, this conversation never happened."

"Sounds like denial," Baba notes.

"Sounds like a favor." Genki studies the drink menu. "It'll cost you."

"Dinner's on me," Masa says, preempting the hangdog expression on Kane's face. "And nobody is breathing a word of this to Masuda-kun.”

Genki rolls his eyes. ”You're no fun anymore.”

“You know it,” Masa drawls. “I’m a real upstanding son these days. Credit to the family name and all that.” 

Under the table, he slides his foot along a certain someone’s very well-toned calf. Baba’s expression gives nothing away.

Masa pays for dinner, and they leave Kane to Genki’s dubious mercies. He holds the restaurant door for Baba, which earns him an eye roll. 

“Is this you being an upstanding son?”

“Nah.” Masa grins. “This is me being a good friend.”

“Kane’s the one who needs a _friend_ right now, not me.”

“He’s already survived one Yukimura. He’ll get over it.”

Baba makes a humming sound. “You would have been okay, though, with Kane and Yagami?”

“That was never gonna happen.”

“But if it did.”

“But it didn’t.” Masa shrugs. “What’s your point?”

“Masuda isn’t Yagami.”

“No, shit. And Yagami isn’t nineteen.”

It earns him a sidelong look. “That’s what you’re objecting to?” 

Baba’s hand brushes against his in passing. Masa tugs his hat more snugly over his head, hiding a smile. He bumps Baba’s shoulder.

“I’m not _that_ much older than you, asshole.”

Baba tucks his hands into his pockets. They turn the corner to the train station. 

“My place?” Masa asks.

Baba doesn’t even look at him. “Mine’s closer.”

For someone who's the model of discretion while in public — even among friends — Baba is fucking _loud_ in bed. Masa kisses him to shut him up, laughs against red bitten lips.

"Your neighbors are gonna hear."

Baba's hands tighten at his hips. "I don't care."

"Don't make me gag you." Masa kisses him again. "Unless you'd like that. In which case, please do."

Baba rolls them over, impatient, pulls down Masa's jeans and follows with his hands and mouth. Masa lets his head fall back against the futon. Baba's hair is soft under his fingers and — yeah, all right, this works pretty well, too.

"Have you ever tried it?" Masa asks, much later. 

Baba stirs against his shoulder. "What?"

"Like a tie or something. As a gag. Or, you know — if you like being tied up."

The pause goes on for so long, Masa wonders if he accidentally hit a nerve. He might have, for all he knows — which is nearly nothing, when it comes to what Baba has or hasn't tried with previous partners. For someone who could dub an entire porno on his own, the guy's pretty prudish when it comes to personal details.

Then Baba says, "I don't know. Haven't tried it."

He doesn't sound weirded out, at least, which is good. "Do you want to?"

"That determined to preserve my neighbors' peace and quiet?"

"Just want to know what else you like." Masa lifts himself up to lean on his elbows. "You're making me do all the hard work here, figuring out everything myself."

Baba shrugs, rolls over to face the wall. "You're a quick study."

"Studying's not really my thing." Masa drapes himself over Baba's back, presses lazy kisses into the side of his neck. "At least tell me if there's something you've tried and you don't like."

"You already know," Baba says, voice hitching a little when Masa takes his earlobe lightly between his teeth. 

"I really don't."

"You're the only person I've slept with, so yeah, you do."

Masa feels himself go very, very still.

He sits up. "Is this a joke?"

Baba pulls himself up as well, arms propped on his knees. "Why would I joke about something like that?"

"I'm the _first_ — How did this not come up before now?"

"I don't know." Baba shrugs. "Why does it matter?"

Masa stares at him. He lurches to his feet, grabbing his shorts along the way. 

"What, are you mad at me now?"

Masa yanks his shirt over his head. "No." He casts around for his socks. "But a little heads up would have been nice."

"Okay, well — heads up, I was a blushing virgin when you met me."

"Yeah, a year too late for that." Masa struggles with his jeans. "I can't believe you just — why didn't you _say_ something?"

"Oh my god, why does it even _matter?_ "

"Because I sucked you off against a fucking hotel door, and that was your first time!"

"Yeah," Baba says slowly, "and it was fine. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," Masa hisses at him, "is that it shouldn't be just _fine_ and it wouldn't have been if you'd been honest with me!"

Baba gives him an odd look for that. 

Masa stomps off to the kitchen in search of his hat. 

He finds the offending accessory perched haphazardly on the fridge. He pulls it down, and turns around to find Baba standing in the doorway. 

"I didn't think it mattered, okay?" Baba says quietly. "And I still don't. Now will you please come back to bed?"

Masa pushes past him. "I need a drink."

"Okay, let me get dressed and we—"

"Alone," Masa says, slipping into his shoes. He grabs his keys from the basket by the door, hat tucked under his arm.

"Masa," Baba starts to say. 

Masa closes the door before he can hear anything else.

 

* * *

 

He ends up calling in a favor (or blackmail, depending on who you ask) — because crisis or not, going to a bar alone on a weeknight is just sad. And if he's going to be sad, then at the very least, someone should be around to appreciate the performance.

"You know, Masa-san, self-pity really isn't a good look on you."

"Who said I feel sorry for myself?"

"It's Monday, and you called me out to go drinking at—" Pause for overly-dramatic watch checking. "—ten past eleven. So if this isn't you feeling sorry for yourself, then I'm gonna have to make some inquiries into your family history of alcoholism."

"Then I'll have to tell Genki who actually broke his unicorn Gundam." Masa signals the bartender for another beer.

"But then you wouldn't have me at your beck and call." Grinning, Hide pulls up a chair. "So. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"We're hanging out," Masa says. He pays for the newly-arrived drink and slides it across. "Cheers."

"Thanks." Hide takes a sip, then makes a comical face at the bottle. "Scratch that, no thanks. What the hell _is_ this?"

"Proof that you're a snob."

"Having tastebuds does not make me a snob."

"Says the person saying no to a free drink."

"Nothing about this is free." Hide gives the beer another go, and almost manages to keep a straight face this time. "You still haven't answered my question."

Masa reads the sticker on his bottle. "It's Muginosuke. Does that answer your question?"

"It's disgusting, is what it is. And you're being evasive. Don't make me call in reinforcements. Yuuta owes me a favor."

"Don't do that. He's busy."

Pause. "This isn't about him, is it?"

"No."

"Because I like you both, but hell if I'm getting in the middle of one of your fights again."

"It's not about him," Masa snaps. "I haven't even talked to him in like two months."

"Why haven't you?"

"Because he's busy? Why are you so fixated on this?"

"No reason." Hide taps the beer bottle against his lower lip but doesn't actually drink. "You do have a track record with Fujis."

Masa puts down his beer with unnecessary force. "For the _last time_ , I did not sleep with Aiba!"

"Who said anything about Aiba?"

"Uh, you did?"

"I said 'Fuji'," Hide returns glibly. "Not my fault if you heard 'Aibacchi' instead."

Masa picks up his drink. "Go fuck yourself."

"Anyway, I meant Taito."

The beer goes down the wrong pipe.

Hide hands him a napkin, which Masa accepts with a glare. Which probably isn't as menacing as he wants it to be, given how his eyes are watering.

"What," he manages, "the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"The overreaction kind of kills plausible deniability, just saying." Hide props his chin on one hand, looking far too smug for his own good. "I know about your 'extra dance practices'. He's obviously trying to get into your pants."

"He is _not_. And I'd never— He's _seventeen_."

"He's a dancer," Hide says, as if that means something and — hang on. Masa narrows his eyes; Hide's grin widens. "Unlike you, I do talk to Yuuta."

"Why am I friends with you?"

"Because I'm a wonderful and charismatic person?"

Masa refuses to even dignify that with an answer. Hide watches him drink his beer and doesn't press for one, knowing well enough when and where to draw the line. And, yeah, all right — this is exactly why Masa called him in the first place. Because, as disgustingly smug and self-effacing as he may be by turn, Sasaki Yoshihide still has the highest EQ of anyone Masa has ever met.

It's probably what lets him get away with the smugness.

"There's a reason I called you and not Yuuta," Masa says.

"I thought you said this has nothing to do with Yuuta."

"It doesn't. But I get the feeling he'd have a damaging bias in this particular case."

"Please tell me this isn't actually about Taito. Because all teasing aside—"

"I repeat, he's _seventeen_." Masa can hear his own molars grinding together. He forces himself to take a breath. "Though, Bachon was the same age when I met him."

Masa drinks his beer and waits for Hide to connect the dots. 

It takes him all of two seconds. "Wow," says Hide, "you've been sleeping with him for that long? Wait, so are you two like, _serious?_ "

Masa stares at him. "Okay, back up. You're not even surprised. Why are you not surprised?"

"About you and Baba Toru?"

"Yes?"

"It's pretty obvious. Well, to me anyway. Taito obviously has no clue — you need to make that clear to him, by the way. He's seriously hot for senpai."

"Can we drop this whole thing about me and my made-up Fuji problem?"

"It's not made up. Also, didn't you sleep with Yuuta?"

Masa drops his face into his hands. "I hate you both."

"You'd be lost without us, and I'll take that as a yes. Is that why we're here? Baba found out you cheated on him?"

"No!" It comes out louder than he meant to. Masa steals a quick glance around, lowers his voice. "No, I did not cheat on him — what the fuck kind of person do you think I am? We weren't — together back then."

Hide studies him for an uncomfortably long moment. "Okay," he says slowly. "So. What's the problem?"

Masa feels a muscle twitch in his jaw. "The problem," he says, "is that he's never been with anyone. Except me, apparently."

"Apparently?"

"Apparently."

"Meaning, I assume, you didn't know that — _oh_." Hide blinks. "Oh. You mean...?" 

"Yeah." Masa drinks the rest of his beer. "That's what I mean." 

Hide signals the bartender. "Two Hibiki 12-years." He turns to Masa, as if to ask something, then apparently changes his mind. "Neat, for both. Thanks."

"I would have asked for ice," Masa says.

"Which is why I didn't ask you." 

"You're a snob."

"I am not." Hide watches the bartender pour the whiskey. He hands one to Masa and pays for both. "You just have terrible taste — in alcohol, and in men."

"I'll let Yuuta know what you think of him." Masa taps his glass against Hide's and takes a generous sip. And pauses. 

Hide grins at the look on his face. "Right?"

"Shut up." Masa takes another sip, slower this time.

"You're welcome. And frankly, most people aren't like you."

"Uh, most people I know would rather drink beer. And not just because it's cheaper."

"I meant first times." Hide props his chin on his hand again. "It's not necessarily terrible for everyone. You just had shitty luck."

The whiskey swirls amber in his glass. "He said it didn't matter."

"You think he's lying?"

"No." Masa tips his finger against the glass. "He said it was fine."

From down the other end of the bar comes the reminder for last call. Masa fishes out his phone; the screen flashes with a series of missed messages. He puts the phone back into his pocket. 

If Hide notices, he doesn't ask.

"It's just sex, you know?" Hide says eventually, when the whiskey is down to just a glimmer of color at the bottom of his glass. "I know you like to say that, but you obviously don't believe it. So this time, let me say it. It's just sex. It only matters if you keep doing it."

"Or until you catch something nasty."

"With the same person, jerkface." The fondness in Hide's tone is completely incongruous with the insult. It makes Masa want to bury himself under a rock, because apparently, this is what his life has come to.

Hide finishes his whiskey. He stands, claps Masa on the back. 

"Let Taito down easy, yeah? He's only seventeen, after all."

"You're a terrible person, you know that?"

"Yeah, probably." Hide grins. "Another reason we're friends."

Masa watches him go. And yeah, he thinks, nursing the last few drops of a hideously expensive drink he never would have bought for himself — probably.

 

* * *

 

"And five, six, seven eight — one two three four, five six seven eight. Two two three four, five six seven eight..."

Babaryo stumbles on three, and Taito gives up by seven when it becomes obvious that their wayward Tezuka has completely lost his place in the choreography.

Masa finishes one last turn just because he can. He checks his position in the mirror, adjusts his left shoulder; Hide gives him a pointed look.

"What happened now?" he asks, though the answer hasn't changed all afternoon.

"Me again," Babaryo says, sounding sheepish. "Sorry. From the top?"

Masa sighs. "Start your turn _before_ three. We've been over this."

"I know. Sorry. I just—"

"You can keep an eye on Hide in the mirror if you want, but at this point it's more a matter of muscle memory. You do get the general principle, though, right?"

"Yes. Of course." Babaryo ducks his head. "I just need more practice."

"Why don't we take a quick break," Hide interjects. "Taito, can you go see if Ueshima-sensei can push our session back another hour?"

"He's running late anyway," Taito mumbles, but goes obediently enough.

"Back in five," Masa calls after him. "Work to be done."

Babaryo picks up his racquet and turns back to the mirror without prompting. Good, Masa thinks, and heads for the cooler.

Hide follows him. "You wanna chill before you actually make Babaryo cry?"

"It's his own damn fault." Masa tosses Hide's water bottle to him. "We should have been done half an hour ago."

"We'll be here all night if you keep yelling at him."

"Good. He can stay with me and Taito."

Hide pauses, water halfway to his lips. "You're still doing that?"

Masa guzzles half his own bottle and recaps it. "Not like I have anything better to do. Call me a good senpai."

"I could call you a lot of things," Hide notes.

"I know what I could call _you_. But we're in public, so I won't." Masa puts his water back in the cooler and heads back toward the rehearsal studio.

He makes it all of five steps before a hand lands on his shoulder. Masa shrugs it off and turns with an irritable, 

"Look, Taito is _not_ hitting on me so—"

—and stops at Bachon’s raised eyebrows. 

"Thought you were Hide," Masa finishes lamely.

"Could've sworn you said 'Taito' just now, but okay." Baba sticks his hands in his pockets. "Can we talk? About yesterday?"

"Not right now." Masa glances up and down the hall, but Hide has already disappeared, damn him. "Kinda busy."

"How about after rehearsal?"

"I'm staying late." 

"With Taito?"

"Babaryo," Masa says, but conscience makes him add, "and yeah, Taito. Maybe Hide, depending on how the session with Ueshima goes later."

"Remind me, how many of them are hitting on you again?"

" _Nobody_ is—" Masa cuts himself off. He looks at the clock. "I need to get back to rehearsal."

Baba grabs his arm to stop him. "Is something going on with Taito?"

"No! It's just Hide making shit up, all right? Taito is not hitting on me. Anyway, he's not my type."

"And you're not single," Baba says. He holds Masa's gaze. "Taito does know that, right?"

"Can we not do this right now?" Masa hisses. 

"Why?" Baba demands. "To protect your impeccable reputation? Last time around, even Sakamoto knew you were sleeping with Furukawa. But now suddenly you're the soul of discretion, and the only thing I can see that's changed is, this time, it's _me_ and like — what, am I not good enough for you to brag about or something?"

Masa stares at him. 

He looks for an appropriate response, but all his brain supplies is, 

"Why would you want me to brag about it?" 

It was the wrong thing to say. It was absolutely the wrong thing to say, as hurt flashes across Baba's face, followed quickly by anger. 

"You're late for rehearsal," Baba says flatly. 

He turns on his heel and goes. 

 

* * *

 

"You're here late."

"Yeah, one of the benefits of being an adult is being able to set your own bedtime." Baba tugs at his shoelaces one last time. "On the other hand, you also have to do your own laundry and shit."

"Oh, I see." Masuda shoulders his messenger bag. "That's funny because obviously I'm a child."

"Child of God, if that makes you feel any better."

Masuda snorts, but he's smiling that polite little smile of his when Baba looks up. It's not particularly reassuring, given it's the same expression Masuda uses on Genki when they're arguing over the science behind Gundanium alloy.

"Are you waiting for Masa-san?" Masuda asks.

"Lost cause."

"Pardon?"

"He's staying late for extra practice." Baba picks up his own bag and heads for the door. "Why are you still here, anyway?"

"Was talking to Genki." At Baba's raised eyebrow, Masuda shrugs. "I don't often get to talk shop with people."

"And by 'shop' you mean 'fanboy'?"

"If you'd like." Masuda follows him down the hall. "I'm having dinner with Kane-san," he says next, and promptly bumps into Baba who's come to an abrupt stop. "You should come along, if you're free."

"You're having dinner with Kane?"

"Yes. I tried inviting Genki, but he said he has other plans."

"Or other motives."

"What?"

"Nothing. Did the name 'Doori' come up at any point during these dinner negotiations?"

"I don't think so?" Masuda is giving him a weird look now. "So...are you coming along? Otherwise it's just me and Kane-san. Mio and Shingo bailed, and Okki's fraternizing with the enemy."

"Okki's — seriously?"

"Method acting, according to him."

"If he really wanted to be in character, he'd dump Yusuke over dessert."

Masuda laughs at that. Baba eyes him, holding the door as they step outside. "What's so funny?"

Masuda shakes his head. "Nothing. Didn't take you for one of us, that's all."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm far from being a fanboy."

"Oh, that's obvious." Masuda grins. "Fangirl is a totally different category."

Baba snorts. "You're mouthy these days."

"Kane-san's bad influence. Speaking of which — dinner? Yes? No?"

Baba looks down the empty street. "Think I'm just gonna head home. But if anyone asks, I was never offered the opportunity to third-wheel your dinner and therefore never made the conscious — and I'd say conscientious — choice to decline."

Masuda blinks. A faint blush appears on his cheeks, and god, Baba thinks — Kane is so fucked. (Another part of him thinks — good. Somebody around here should be getting properly laid. And with the right person, at that.)

"You wouldn't be third-wheeling," Masuda says, just a tad too firmly to be believable. "Third-wheeling implies that there's...you know."

"A relationship?"

"There's no relationship."

"But there's interest." Baba shifts his bag until it rests more comfortably on his shoulder. "Friendly advice, Masuda-kun: willful denial never gets anyone anywhere. If it's going to blow up in your face, then you might as well pull the trigger yourself. Get it over with sooner rather than later when there's more to regret."

Masuda looks at him. Tilts his head a fraction of an inch. "Did something happen between you and Masa-san?"

Baba gives him a thin smile. "No. Just a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?"

"It's always better to know exactly where you stand." Baba checks his watch. "You'll be late for dinner."

Mausda hesitates for a second. "If you're sure."

"Have fun," Baba says firmly. "And good luck. Let me know how it goes, huh?"

 

* * *

 

The clock reads 8:05. Masa watches the second hand crawl past little tick marks representing numbers. His fingers tap a syncopated rhythm against the hardwood floor, and it doesn't make the time go any faster.

"You're upset," Taito says. The statement sounds more like a question.

Masa shrugs at his reflection in the mirror. "Been a long day."

Taito walks over slowly. "What happened?"

"You were there for most of it." Masa leans back on his elbows. "And still are. Dunno why you'd want to stick around for more of this, but hey."

"Ah." Taito sits down beside him. "You're a very dedicated person."

Masa snorts. "Thanks."

"We're very lucky to have you as our senpai." Taito shifts awkwardly, stopping when his knee bumps Masa's. "As much as we drive you crazy, probably."

"Eh, you're all right." Masa looks at the clock again; it's well past eight now. At this rate, they won't have the time to rehearse before the building manager shows up to kick them out.

A hand on his knee interrupts his thoughts.

"If there's somewhere else you'd rather be," Taito says, "we don't have to stay here."

Masa blinks. Taito doesn't.

The clock ticks.

Carefully — so as not to give the impression of flinching away — Masa stands up and stretches his arms.

"I wasn't planning on staying too late," he says, keeping his tone light. "Anyway, if we keep spending late nights together, people are gonna start to gossip."

Taito looks down. Masa gives him a moment to compose himself.

When Taito looks back up, his expression is far from chagrined. "Do you really care," he asks, "about the gossip?"

Masa stares at him. The echo of another conversation rings in his mind, and it feels uncomfortably like thinking too hard about something that was only ever muscle memory.

The door bangs open.

"Sorry we're late!" Hide enters with a sunny smile and empty hands. "Convenience store was packed. Got you the last donut, though. Thank me later."

Babaryo trails behind him, carrying a plastic bag. He glances between Masa and Taito. "Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long?"

Taito scrambles to his feet. "I didn't realize—"

"Right on time, actually," Masa interrupts. "I was just telling Taito, I actually can't stay late today."

He catches Hide's eye until the other man raises an eyebrow. "Okay, well. I'm sure we'll find a way to manage in your absence." Hide takes the plastic bag from Babaryo. "We're confiscating your food, though."

"If it's inconvenient," Taito tries, "we can reschedule."

"Sit down, Taito-kun." Hide hands him a bottle of unsweetened tea with a sweetened smile. "Can't abandon your teammate in a time of need, can we?"

"I really appreciate it," Babaryo says earnestly. "You've been a huge help."

Taito gives him an inscrutable look. "It's no trouble."

The smile he gets from Babaryo, for that, is distinctly out of proportion. Masa decides he's not going to comment, considering...well.

Hide catches his eye and shrugs. "See? Handling it. Go on, get out of here."

"Great." Masa throws him a half salute. "I owe you one, Hide-sama." 

Hide waves him off with an eye roll. "One doesn't even begin to cover it."

Masa ducks out of the studio, swings by the dressing room to pick up his bag. His phone reads 8:12 when he flips it open.

Not too late, he hopes.

 

* * *

 

Baba opens the door when he knocks, but doesn't immediately invite him inside. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, eyes steady and studying.

"Things didn't go well at late-night practice?"

"I bailed." Masa brushes his bangs out of his eyes. He'd practically run the last few blocks here, barely taking the time to pay attention to red lights, much less his hair. He takes a deep breath, as much to replenish his lungs of oxygen as anything else. "Can we talk? Inside." 

"If you think it won't bother my neighbors."

Baba steps away from the door, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving Masa to show himself in. It's been years since they've put on the little charades of social niceties with each other. But today, it doesn't feel much like intimacy.

Masa finds him setting the kettle back on the stove. A single cup of tea steams on the counter. Baba picks it up, then stands right in front of the cupboard that houses the rest of his chinaware.

He doesn't offer to make a second cup.

"Taito came on to me," Masa says.

Baba takes a careful sip of his tea. "And?"

"What?"

"Unless you're here to talk me into having a three-way, I don't see how that's any of my business."

"What do you mean it's not—" Masa bites back the rest of that sentence. He takes a half-step forward. "Look, I'm just saying — I turned him down. I should have been clear with him from the start."

"Sounds like a good new year's resolution."

"It's nearly June."

"Mid-year resolution?"

"Would you knock it off?"

Baba side-steps when Masa tries to crowd into his space. He sets down the cup — a tad too quickly, and hot tea splashes over his fingers and across the countertop. 

Masa reaches for the kitchen towel; Baba is faster by a hair.

"Here," Masa tries, "let me help—"

"I got it," Baba snaps. "I'm not a fucking child, all right? As you can see, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

He gives the counter one last vicious wipe and dumps the towel in the sink. The cup follows, tea leaves swirling down the drain.

Baba turns on the tap, and for long seconds the only sound is the splash of water over skin.

When Masa reaches for his wrist, Baba doesn't flinch. He lets Masa turn his hand over, examine the red splotch across his knuckles. The tap water runs.

"Should probably ice it," Masa says softly, "just in case."

"And here I was waiting for you to kiss it better."

Baba's fingers tangle in his, and Masa notices belatedly that 1) he's been backed against the counter, and 2) Baba is very, very close. There aren't a whole lot of options for getting away, short of digging his nails into Baba's knuckles and forcing him to let go first.

Every last option goes out the window anyway when Baba kisses him. 

His other hand slips into the back pocket of Masa's jeans, palm pressing hard against his ass to bring them flush against each other. There's nothing inexperienced in the way his teeth dig into Masa's lower lip, taking advantage of the resulting gasp to flick his tongue inside. 

Just shy of too much, just the way he likes. 

Baba shifts closer, wedges his thigh between Masa's legs for more friction. He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a sigh, and Baba kisses him harder, demanding more.

It's not until he feels his zip being undone that Masa realizes Baba has released his hand. In fact, said hand is and has been, for a while now, engaged in the business of divesting the other man of his shirt.

Baba lifts his arms in cooperation with this endeavor.

Masa takes the opportunity to push him back a step. "Wait." It sounds breathlessly unconvincing even to himself. He closes his eyes a moment. His voice is steadier the second time, "Wait. I don't—"

"Don't need a condom to suck you off."

"You— Whoa, whoa." Masa catches Baba's arm as he starts to drop his knees. A not-insignificant part of Masa's brain is giving his better judgment some serious side-eye. But for once, his better judgment holds firm. "You are not blowing me in your kitchen."

Baba's hands settle at his waist. "Why not?"

"Because." Admittedly, it's hard to remember the reason when Baba's thumbs slip under the waistband of his shorts. Masa mentally smacks himself. "Bad for your knees. We need to talk. And there's — you know, a bed."

Their eyes meet. Baba looks down. "Kitchen makes a better story."

It's the way he says it, or maybe it's the desperate pressure of fingers digging into his hip, but even muscle memory can't stop Masa from remembering: _am I not good enough for you to brag about?_

Gently, he touches the inside of Baba's wrists. Pushes his hands away. Something like resignation flashes across the other man's face, and he starts to step back.

Masa doesn't let him, doesn't loosen his grip. "I'm not going to tell people about us doing it in the kitchen."

"Well, that's about as kinky as I get, so if you're looking for something less vanilla—"

"I'm not. Whatever you think's going on here, that's not it."

Baba looks at him for a long moment. "Then what?" he whispers, finally. "You practically ran out of here last night, at rehearsal you barely said two words to me that didn't involve 'Taito' or 'Hide', and then you show up and you don't even want to— So, what? Huh? What _do_ you want?"

Masa wants to kiss him — kiss it better, and for a second he wishes it were as simple as that.

"I want to talk," he says. "Like you asked."

Baba jerks his hands away, turning to the sink. "Talk, then."

The line of his back is rigid with tension, broken only by the rumples in his worn cotton shirt. Masa straightens his own clothes, zips up his jeans. It makes him feel only marginally more prepared.

He takes a deep breath. "Last night, I—" The tap runs, drowning out his words. Masa pauses. "Can't you do the dishes later?"

"I'm multitasking." Baba scrapes tea leaves from the sides of the sink.

"It can wait."

"Why wait when I don't want to?" The teacup gets a vigorous scrubbing, followed by an equally vicious rinse. "Why not get it over with? It's not like I won't have other dishes to wash."

"That metaphor doesn't really work."

"What metaphor?" Baba dumps the teacup onto the dish rack with a clatter. "It's just a fucking cup. Why do you even care?"

Masa grabs his hand before he can reach for the kettle, next. "I care about you." The words make his chest feel funny. Not because he doesn't mean it — because he has, for a long time, longer than he'd admit — but, just now, it sounds less like an admittance of fact and more like something that Baba needs to be convinced of.

"It matters," he continues, "because I care. And if you — feel the same way, then you shouldn't just 'get it over with'. You know?"

Baba is still looking at the sink. "You're right."

"Yeah?"

"The cup metaphor doesn't work."

Masa squeezes his hand. "Will you please look at me?"

"What difference does it make?" Baba meets his eyes for a brief moment. "That's what I don't get. If you'd known — I didn't want to scare you off. And I was right, wasn't I? You'd never have touched me if you knew."

"Glad you have that much faith in my self-control." Masa grins wryly. "Honestly, doubt it. But I definitely would've taken things slower."

Baba snorts. "What part of 'yes, fuck me harder' makes you think I wanted it _slower_?"

"How do you know that's what you really wanted?" Masa counters. "The first time's never perfect, I know that, but pretending to like something isn't the same as _fine_."

"It's just sex," Baba snaps. "Aren't you the one always saying that?" 

Yes, technically speaking. But evidence and intent aren't always the same, and Masa doesn't even know where to begin in explaining _that_. 

He shakes his head. "You're not listening to me."

"No, I hear you loud and clear." Baba steps away from him. "You think I'm some kind of air-headed ingenue who'll let just anybody take advantage of me. So thank you, huh? Thanks so much for this revelation about myself, because gosh, I never realized how easy I am!"

"That's not what I'm saying!"

" _Isn't it?_ Because what I hear is you telling me how I should have done better and all I see is you flirting with people who probably _can_ do better, and I'm sorry I'm not Aiba or Hide or whoever's on your radar this week, but _I am trying_. I'm serious about this, and it'd be nice to know if you are, too!"

Those words sting worse than any cup of tea. "What," Masa manages, "the _hell_ makes you think I'm not serious?"

"Then why won't you tell anyone about us?"

"Because it's none of their business!"

"It is when people start hitting on you because they think you're fair game!"

"I screwed up, okay?" Masa practically shouts. "I didn't realize what was going on with Taito because he's a goddamn _kid_ and I didn't think—"

"Didn't think he's old enough to be having those kinds of feelings? Well, newsflash, because I was the same age when I realized that I'm in love with you!"

All the air leaves the room.

Masa tries to speak; his throat works, but no words emerge.

Baba's knuckles are white against the sink. "So let's just get this over with, huh? If you're really serious, then you need to start informing people that you are, in fact, in a relationship. Because this one-sided commitment thing isn't working for me anymore." His chest heaves with a visible breath. "And if you're not — then you can just go."

Masa grips the counter for support. "Don't say things like that."

"It's your choice."

"You're oversimplifying."

"How? It's one or the other." Baba walks to the stove. "It's not rocket science. And you owe me this much."

"Bachon, don't—" Baba shrugs him off when Masa reaches for him, and Masa feels his frustration morph into anger. He grabs Baba's elbow. "Don't say shit like that, all right? You can't just fucking guilt-trip me into a relationship with you!"

Baba flinches from his touch. 

Masa freezes. "I didn't mean—"

"No, I get it." Baba yanks the kettle off the stovetop; the sloshing of water is absurdly loud. "Something you need to be _guilted_ into isn't something you ever wanted in the first place."

There's a misunderstanding in the middle of all this, Masa thinks. Somewhere. There has to be. He just can't see it, or maybe it's the way his vision is blurring, and he can't quite say why that's happening, either.

Baba empties the kettle into the sink. Hot water gurgles down the drain; steam mists through the tiny kitchen, stinging Masa's eyes. 

"You should go," Baba says.

 

* * *

 

Kane picks up just before the call goes to voicemail. "Hello?"

"Hey, fukubuchou," Masa chirps. "Got some time for an old friend?"

"Um. Sure? If you want to meet later—"

"Nah, now's good. I'm outside your apartment."

"You're what?" Kane practically yelps, and Masa cuts the call. 

He knocks on the door and offers a sunny smile when, after a long pause, Kane finally answers. Kane gives Masa a wary look.

"You know," Kane says, "the reason for calling ahead is to give people some heads up before appearing on their doorstep."

"I gave you a heads up." Masa strolls into the apartment, though Kane only reluctantly steps back to allow him space. Masa hefts the plastic bag in his hand. "Plus, I brought beer. You got a bottle opener somewhere?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Great," Masa interrupts blithely. He heads straight for the kitchen. "Doesn't matter, really. You know I can open a bottle on my shoe. Dire circumstances call for—"

He stops dead at the kitchen door. 

A chair scrapes over linoleum, and Masuda stands up with a hurried little bow. "Masa-san," he says. There's a mug of tea on the table in front of him and two sets of dirty dishes in the sink. "Good evening."

Masa inclines his head. "Masuda-kun."

From behind him, Kane clears his throat. "Sorry." It's unclear which of his guests it's meant for. "I wasn't really expecting people over today."

"Yet here we are," Masa observes. 

Masuda coughs. "I was — just leaving, actually. Please, don't let me inconvenience you." He places his cup in the sink. "I'll see you both at rehearsal tomorrow."

Masa steps aside to let Masuda past. Kane is a step slower; Masuda nearly bumps into him en route to the door, and Kane reaches out to steady him.

"I'll, um." Kane glances at Masa. "Bottle opener's in the drawer. I'll show Masu out."

Never mind that the door is literally five steps from the kitchen. Masa sets the beer on the counter, but the rustling of plastic can't quite muffle their lowered voices.

"You're welcome to stay," Kane is saying. 

"No, I think — I'd better not. But thanks. And thanks for dinner."

"Yeah. I mean. Don't worry about it."

Masuda laughs quietly. "Good night, Kane-san."

The kitchen clock reads 10:15. Masa has made no progress on opening the beers by the time Kane returns, following an excruciatingly prolonged pause before the front door opens and shuts and Masuda's footsteps fade down the hallway outside.

"You're keeping Masuda-kun up past his bedtime," Masa quips.

Kane rolls his eyes. "Yeah, like you've never kept Bachon 'up past his bedtime' or anything."

He should have seen it coming. He should have, but it still feels like a punch to the gut. Masa forces his fists to unclench. 

"That's irrelevant."

"Oh, shut up," Kane snaps. "Don't even pretend you haven't been sleeping with him since you were taking bets on my chances with Yagami — yeah, I know about that, too. And for the record, Masu and I were planning to have dinner with the whole team, except you all had better things to do. Or people to do, as the case may be."

Kane raises one eyebrow, as if daring Masa to contradict him. And Masa doesn't know what his own face looks like just then, but — judging by the slow flush that colors Kane's face as the silence stretches on and on — it's not a pleasant expression. 

"I'm just saying, all right?" Kane finishes. "Glass houses."

"Right." Masa pushes away from the counter, brushing past Kane to the entryway. "Remind me to get you some window polish for your birthday."

Kane starts after him. "Whoa, wait — I thought you wanted to talk. You brought beer and everything."

"Keep it." Masa slips into his shoes. "I've got better things to do."

 

* * *

 

Masuda finds him taking lunch alone in the dressing room. 

"Mind if I interrupt your peace and quiet?" 

Baba shrugs, gestures to the empty seat beside him. "You're the boss."

"You confuse me with Kane-san." Masuda carefully sets down his cup of instant noodles. He shrugs when Baba gives his meal choice a look askance. "Cooking's not one of my talents."

"Say it isn't so," Baba deadpans. "The Child of God, brought low by humble culinary arts?"

"Blasphemer. A good meal is the most noble goal any man could aspire to."

"Preaching to the choir. How was dinner with Kane?"

"It was all right. He's — you know. A really good person. And still insisting on doing the whole dutiful senpai thing of paying for everything." Masuda fiddles with his disposable chopsticks. "We got takeout and went back to his place."

Baba nearly chokes on a bite of his food. He takes a gulp of water and clears his throat. "I see," he says slowly. "So. Good date?"

"It wasn't a date." The chopsticks appear to be infinitely fascinating to Masuda. That, or he's trying to set them on fire with the power of his brain. "A date implies...certain things."

"Meaning you chickened out?"

"Meaning," Masuda says firmly, "that he's a good person."

Baba considers it. "So you chickened out."

"I didn't—" Masuda sighs. He straightens his back, head held high as he looks Baba in the eye and says, "I was the one who suggested we go back to his place. The fact that he chose not to take advantage speaks to the kind of man he is."

Baba stares at him. "Are you sure he understood that you were making a pass at him? Kane's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"I asked him point-blank if he'd ever consider getting involved with a cast mate." Masuda peels back the now-soggy cover from his cup noodle. "Anyway, Masa-san showed up before I could make a bigger ass of myself."

Baba puts down his water bottle. It takes some effort to keep both his hands and his voice from shaking. It helps to focus on the first part of what Masuda said. 

Because goddammit but sometimes, even the best intention isn't enough. Fuck discretion and fuck people's hang-ups on inexperience. Masuda deserves the whole story.

He opens his mouth to say, _You need to know what happened with Kane last time around_ — and a knock at the dressing room door interrupts him.

Genki pokes his head in. "Bachon, have you seen— Oh. Masu." Genki pauses. "I thought you were having lunch with Kane."

Baba raises an eyebrow at Genki's obviously-fake tone of mild disinterest. 

Masuda glances at the clock. "Kane-san is meeting with Ueshima-sensei, if you're looking for him."

"I know that," Genki all but growls. Baba feels his eyebrows creep toward his hairline. "I was looking for Masa. I thought he was with Taito but I can't find him either. You guys seen him?"

"Try Hide," Baba suggests. The words come out easily enough, despite the tight feeling in his chest. Funny, that. "Or you could keep an ear out for Babaryo crying in a corner somewhere."

Genki snorts. "Thanks for nothing. Holler if you see him, yeah? You can spare the time, since neither of you has a match in this show." He throws a lazy salute and heads off. "Later."

The clock ticks in his wake.

Masuda stirs his noodles. "Well, that was unnecessary."

Baba makes a humming sound. "He doesn't like you, does he?"

"Beats me as to why." It's phrased as a quip, but Masuda doesn't quite manage to hide his crestfallen expression. "I mean, we have a lot of common interests."

"Competition."

"What?"

"Genki's not great at sharing." Baba wraps up the rest of his lunch and brushes a few stray crumbs off the table. "He's never had serious competition before, for Kane's attention."

Masuda blinks. "Um. Genki is straight. Isn't he?"

Baba allows himself a small smirk. "He's not gay for Kane. What I mean is, Genki has never had to contemplate the possibility of somebody else in the cast being closer to Kane than he is."

"Oh." Masuda pokes at his lunch. "Well, I don't see what he's worrying about. Kane-san isn't one to turn his back on his best friend."

"Only because Yagami Ren wasn't interested in him. But if things had gone differently — believe me, Kane's a relentless romantic at heart. And you know what they say, once burned. Kane's dumb, yeah, but he's got enough self-preservation to be doubly cautious this time around. Which means you've got your work cut out for you."

Silence.

Baba watches the minute hand on the clock tick toward twelve. Ten minutes before rehearsal resumes.

Masuda says, "I think you'd better start from the beginning."

 

* * *

 

"Oy, are you hiding from us or something?"

"And deprive myself of your excellent company? Why would I want to do that?"

"Sarcasm. Cute." Genki bounds up the last few steps of the fire escape. He squints at the grey-clouded sky. "Not really the kind of day to be taking lunch on the roof."

Masa shrugs. "Better chance of not being disturbed."

"Well, you're shit out of luck." Genki plops down on a dry patch of tile beside him. "What are we doing for Kane's birthday next week?"

"Nothing. You still owe me money from last year."

"I'll pay for dinner this time. I meant at rehearsal. You wanna prank him, or are we doing the usual and getting him a cake?"

"Might as well get him a handbasket to hell."

"What?"

"Just put a ribbon on Masuda and be done with it. Or whipped cream. I bet he'd like that."

Genki wrinkles his nose. "Okay, first — gross. Second — still gross. Third — what's got your panties in a twist? Okki said you made Babaryo cry the other day."

"Okki's been spending too much time with Seigaku. Why's he always in their dressing room, anyway?"

"Guess Yusuke is his consolation prize, since he can't have Genki-sama."

"Well, aren't you the soul of modesty."

"It's hard work, being this perfect." Genki flashes a sardonic V. "And like you're one to talk. You and Bachon were practically joined at the hip when you started hooking up."

Masa feels his facial muscles contract in what's probably a smile. "Anatomically incorrect, but it's cute that that's how you think gay sex works."

"I've been in this production long enough to know more than anyone ever needs to." Genki leans back on his elbows, squinting at the darkening clouds. "More than Masuda, anyway. Kane's wasting his time mooning over a kid who doesn't even know what he wants."

"Are you jealous?"

"I'm straight."

"Not what I asked. And you don't need to convince me; I'm all aboard with the society for the protection of Kanesaki Kentarou. But god help him if he won't help himself."

Genki pulls a face. "Whatever. Like you said, it's his funeral. But first, seriously, what are we doing for his birthday?"

"You're his best friend. You decide." Masa picks himself up as he feels the first splash of rain on his face. "Grand gestures aren't really my thing, anyway."

Genki follows him back down the fire escape. "I'm amazed you ever got into Bachon's pants with that attitude."

Masa keeps his head down to avoid the rain. "Yeah," he says, "so am I."

 

* * *

 

He makes an emergency detour to the restroom to wash his hands. The rain had started coming down in earnest before he and Genki made it all the way back inside, and Masa only saved himself a fall down the slick fire escape by scraping his palm open on the rough brick wall.

The cold water stings and turns pink when he runs his hand beneath it. Masa grits his teeth and holds himself still until the water runs clear.

The restroom door creaks open.

Taito pauses when he sees Masa. "Hi."

"Hey." Masa turns off the tap, debating whether he can get away with not bandaging the cut. Risk of infection versus risk of invoking Shinnosuke-san's wrath with his tardiness. "Don't tell me. Am I late for dance practice?"

"Probably." Taito takes a couple steps closer. "What happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing." Gingerly, Masa tugs a paper napkin loose from the dispenser. He pats his hands dry, glances down at his clothes and twists toward the mirror to see the back of his shirt. "There's no blood on my clothes, right?"

"There's some dirt." Taito steps right into his space, tugs at Masa's shirt to show him the smudge on the hem. "It'll come out with water. I can—"

The door swings open again.

"Taito, Ryuuki says he's going to draw on your face with permanent marker if you don't—"

Babaryo spots them and stops dead in his tracks. It takes Masa a split second too long to realize how it must look — himself, backed against the sink, and Taito practically pressed against him and one hand grasping his clothes.

"Oh god — sorry!" Babaryo nearly trips over his own feet in his haste. "Sorry! My bad! I didn't mean—"

The door closes and cuts off the rest of his embarrassed stammering. The silence is loud. Taito doesn't move away. Masa takes a moment to count backwards from ten.

"Back to work, then." Masa extricates himself from Taito's vicinity. He grabs a clean paper napkin to wrap around his hand for now. "You'd better go check that Babaryo hasn't hit his head on something."

"Yeah," Taito says with no discernible enthusiasm. "You need first aid, though."

"Looks worse than it is. I'll be fine."

"Sure you don't need a hand?"

Masa yanks too hard at the makeshift bandage, and the cut starts bleeding again. He grits his teeth. "Nope. I got it."

Taito shuffles a half step toward the door. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." He keeps a tight check on his frustration; the last thing he needs, at this point, is to antagonize any more cast mates. "I'm flattered, Taito-kun, but you're better off spending your energies on your own teammates. If you catch my drift."

Taito follows Masa's gaze to the door, through which Babaryo had disappeared. The perpetually-blank look on the younger man's face doesn't do much to convince Masa that his message actually got across.

But Taito says, "Okay. Well. Hope you...feel better."

He pauses a second longer, gives an awkward half-bow and — finally — leaves. 

Only then does Masa unclench his hand, palm slick with blood and sweat, grimacing at the feeling of reopened wounds.

 

* * *

 

"Ooh, is that the cake?"

Okki's excited voice carries halfway down the hall. Masa slouches into the dressing room just in time to see Genki swat Okki upside the head, then nearly drop the white pastry box before he realizes the person who just entered isn't, in fact, the birthday boy.

Genki shoves the cake at Okki. "Keep your voice down, idiot. Make yourself useful and stash it with your boyfriend's Inui juice."

"He's not—" The fact that Okki blushes all the way to his bangs is kind of cute, if you're into that kind of thing. "Genki-san, please don't call Yusuke that. He's not."

"Well, I'm not calling him your wife. Even if you _have_ consummated your relationship."

"Genki-san!"

While Genki laughs at his flustered kouhai's retreating back, Masa slides into his chair. He taps the light bulb on his mirror that's been flickering on and off all week. Today, it's given up the ghost altogether.

It makes the bags under his eyes look way more dramatic than necessary.

"You can use my station, if you want." Genki perches on Okki's chair, arms folded above the backrest. "You okay?"

"What do you think?" Masa retorts, because it's easier to bend truth than make it up wholesale. "I didn't sleep well."

"Wow, I can't imagine what could _possibly_ be keeping you up."

Masa rummages in his bag for his practice shoes. "Couldn't if you tried, kid. But why imagine when you could just go on the internet?"

Genki wrinkles his nose. "You're gross."

"You're a virgin." 

"At least I'm not a slut."

"Sluts have more fun." Masa yanks on his shoes and gets up. "Just ask Okki."

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," Genki calls after him, and Masa doesn't even bother flipping him off over his shoulder.

The studio is empty, lights still off, but at least the door is unlocked. Masa claims the corner by the window. His muscles complain from the cold stretches, not helped by another night of insomnia, and he ignores it. 

He scuffs his bandage when his hand slips from a poorly-timed attempt to catch the toe of his shoe. 

From the hallway, he hears snatches of voices — Okki, Genki, possibly Shouta, who's always up for a spot of early-morning gossip — but no one else comes into the studio until Kane opens the door. 

Masa gives him a brief nod, before bending his head back over his ankles.

He hears Kane sit down beside him. 

"Are we still mad at each other?" Kane asks after a bit. 

Masa uncurls from the painful pose with a sigh. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I'm not." Kane fiddles with his shoelace. "I think you are, though."

"I'm cranky in the mornings."

"You've been cranky all week. And I don't think 'cranky' is the right word." Kane accidentally picks apart the knot in his laces. "But I think you should forgive me now, seeing as it's my birthday."

"Is it?" Masa leans back on his elbows. "Fine. By the unholy powers vested in me, you are hereby absolved of your sins."

"You wanna tell me why?"

"Because you asked. And because it's your birthday."

"And I'll keep playing that card until you tell me why you look like you haven't slept in days."

"I was busy planning an elaborate birthday prank for you involving ribbons, Masuda-kun, and a giant donut that may or may not be a metaphor." Masa stands up, ignoring Kane's red-faced spluttering. "Don't think Genki went for it in the end, but whatever happens at lunch, try to look surprised."

Kane sighs. "I told him I didn't want a fuss."

"What you should've told him is that you'll still be his best bro in sickness and in health, even if you both want to bone somebody else."

"Nobody is boning anyb—" Kane starts, and clams up when the door opens.

Masuda gives them both a curious look. "Good morning."

Masa decides now is a good time to excuse himself and get a fresh bandage for his hand. Masuda asks if it's healing well, and Kane reminds him to keep it dry so it doesn't get infected. 

Masa refrains from commenting that he's more likely to get infected with romantic dumbassery, since the two of them are obviously highly contagious.

Genki catches him at the door. "Twelve-thirty," he says in a low voice. "Don't forget to tell Mio and Shingo."

"Yessir," Masa quips, and Genki rolls his eyes. 

Masa takes the long way around, avoiding the general flow of traffic toward the studio. He manages to run into exactly no one on his circuitous route, and by the time he circles back to the dressing room the hallways are practically silent. 

He opens the door and finds Hide raiding their first-aid kit. 

"Oh, hey." Hide hurriedly slaps a band-aid over the back of his neck. "How's your hand?"

Masa takes the roll of gauze that Hide offers. "What happened to you?"

"Mosquito bite."

Hide squirms away when Masa tries to peer at the faint coloration seeping around the edges of the band-aid. It's obvious even at a glance, and Masa nearly laughs. "You lying slut. That's a hickey."

"Yeah, well." Hide helps Masa tear a length of medical tape. "It's nobody's business, so I'm going with mosquito."

"If only everyone saw it that way." Masa holds still while Hide tapes up his hand. It's a bit loose when he flexes his fingers. "Thanks."

Hide hums and puts away the first-aid kit, and just as Masa is starting to think that maybe he got away with that one, Hide says casually, 

"So I'm assuming you've been in the doghouse for about a week now, since that's how long it looks like you've gone without a proper night's sleep. I'd give him what he wants, if I were you. Your virtuous public image isn't worth a damn anyway, with the grapevine around here."

Masa peels back the tape, yanks the bandage tighter across his palm. "You know it's called blackmail, when you're the one spreading the gossip?"

"Keep dragging this fight out, and even those less observant than my magnificent self are gonna start to catch on." Hide trails after him when Masa starts for the door. "Seriously, what did you do?"

"We broke up." 

Masa stops with one hand on the door, and Hide nearly bumps into him.

Hide opens his mouth. Closes it. Gently, he places a hand on Masa's shoulder.

"We broke up," Masa hears himself say again, and he's too tired to care about the look on Hide's face just then. Like the man said, no point in trying to keep a secret around here — it always gets out, one way or another. "I fucked a virgin and now he thinks he's in love with me, which is bullshit, but we agreed to disagree. So that's what I did. Okay?"

The pause goes on forever.

Hide squeezes his shoulder. "We need to get to the studio," he says quietly. "Also, you're an idiot, and I'm here for you, and we are definitely going to talk about this later."

"I'd rather not."

"That wasn't a suggestion." Hide pushes the door open and holds it until Masa follows him through. "You're having lunch with me, and don't even think about bailing, because Yuuta still owes me a favor and, as you know, I am not above playing dirty."

Masa can't find the energy to argue. From down the hall comes Shinnosuke-san's voice and the sound of rhythmic clapping and shoes squeaking over hardwood studio floors. 

They're late for rehearsal.

 

* * *

 

Over the course of a two-hour morning dance practice, Masa manages to: ignore Hide, ignore Bachon, lose his temper with Mio (thereby nearly making Shingo cry), teach Masuda the wrong choreography for an ensemble number — resulting in a domino-effect stumble that ends with Okki tripping over Ryuuki and nearly landing face-first in Yusuke's lap.

In the awkward silence that follows, Tsujimoto attempts a joke about the infinite miracles of doubles. Genki contributes a snide comment about _probability of miracle babies, 0%_.

And by the time they're dismissed for lunch, it's somehow become Masa's fault that Okki runs out of the studio on the verge of tears. Yusuke gives Masa a dirty look before following.

All in all, Masa is almost glad when Hide drags him to the emergency stairwell.

"I'm gonna need some food if we're actually having lunch." Masa leans against the wall while Hide peers over the railing to make sure they're alone. "Unless 'lunch' was a euphemism, in which case, I'd _really_ rather not."

“You're lucky I know you well enough to know when you're bluffing. Otherwise, I might actually be offended."

"Hate to break it to you, but not everybody you meet is gonna fall to their knees before your beauty."

"What makes you think it wouldn't be _me_ on my knees?" Hide quirks an eyebrow at the expression on Masa's face. "Oh, as if you hadn't thought about it."

"I hadn't, and I also didn't need the mental image."

Hide looks at him, head tilted slightly to one side. And for a split second, Masa thinks: shit, they're in the _emergency stairwell_ for god's sake and it's not like Masa doesn't know what Hide gets up to on his own time and— 

"Let's just say, I've already had one person come on to me today, so you're gonna have to get in line if you want a piece of this."

Masa blinks. Then he snorts. "You're gonna need a bigger band-aid."

"Not as big as the band-aid Babaryo's gonna need for his broken heart," Hide says, and Masa feels his eyebrows go up. 

" _Babaryo_ hit on you?"

"No, dumbass. Taito." Hide rolls his eyes at Masa's sharp intake of breath. "I turned him down, okay? For one, I do have standards. And two, I don't need you giving me shit for getting in the way of true love."

Masa splutters. "What the hell are you—"

"I know you've been pushing him toward Babaryo," Hide interrupts, and Masa's mouth snaps shut. "Which I'm all for. They deserve each other. It's kind of cute, like watching a pair of brain-damaged kittens or something." 

"Okay, first of all, that's offensive. Second, I was not—"

"Oh, please." Hide sounds exasperated. "Don't act like you haven't been trying to play matchmaker in your own roundabout way. Normally, I'd tell you to get over yourself — Taito is allowed to screw around if he wants, but seeing how he's been barking up all the wrong trees, I'm inclined to agree with your sappy reasons for setting him up with Babaryo."

Hide gives him a look that's far too understanding for Masa's comfort. Because that's _not why_ , dammit.

"You're the worst romantic I've ever met, you know," Hide says.

Masa scowls. "I am not—"

Hide kisses him.

And even if he knows what Hide gets up to on weekends and the occasional day off, Masa also knows his friend well enough to know that Hide doesn't just _do shit like this_. The shock of it keeps him frozen for a split second — and by the time he recovers enough muscle control to flinch away, Hide already has both hands around his wrists.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Masa hisses, trying to jerk his hands free and failing. 

Hide is stronger than he looks; his fingers dig relentless bruises into Masa's skin. "I'm calling your bluff." This close, it's impossible to avoid eye contact. "Have sex with me. You're hot. I'm easy. There's a supply closet just around the corner."

Masa's throat closes, bottom dropping out of his stomach, and the combination is enough to make him want to vomit.

He shoves at Hide, throwing his weight — and his knee — into it. 

The other man just barely manages to move out of the way in time. Masa feels his nails digging into his palm; Hide is lucky that his hands are shaking too hard to land an accurate punch just then.

"Are you _out of your fucking mind?_ You actually think — _this_ is your idea of 'being there' for your friends?"

Hide studies him with an unreadable expression. "It's just sex. What's the problem?"

"The _problem_ ," Masa spits out, "is it's _you_."

"I'm not seventeen," Hide returns calmly. "I'm hardly a virgin, and I'm definitely not going to get the wrong idea. Isn't that why you ended things with Baba Toru? Because you didn't want that?"

"I didn't—" The words choke. Masa forces himself to breathe, once, twice. "Don't you fucking try to make a point. Just don't. You've no fucking right and you have _no idea_ —"

"Don't I?" Hide snaps. "I'm the person you want to be. The guy who can walk away from a one-night stand with a senpai you'd had a crush on for years like it's no big deal. Even though it was your first time, and you didn't tell him — because, what the hell, it's just sex, right?"

Masa's shoulder blades hit the wall; he doesn't even remember taking a step back. "Who told you that?"

"Yuuta." There's no pity in Hide's voice, every word whip sharp. "He might have been fifteen, but he had eyes. He's not stupid. You, on the other hand? You're a fucking idiot, Masa. Not only did you let that guy fuck you up, but you're letting what happened fuck up the best relationship you might ever have and definitely don't deserve."

If not for the wall, Masa would probably be flat on his ass right about now. His knees don't feel so much like rubber as like nothing at all; it's panic, a part of him knows. Like stage fright. Only, there's no one but Hide to witness this particular performance.

He shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to see the sympathy creeping slowly back into Hide's expression. He hears the other man step closer. Feels the hand on his shoulder, one of Hide's shoes bumping against his own.

"Not everyone's like you," Hide says softly. "Even you — maybe you really did want to be like me at one point, but something tells me you'd rather have the fairytale. And that's fine, too."

"Yeah, well." It hurts just to get a breath past the knot in his chest, much less words. "No such thing as fairytales anyway."

Hide smacks him upside the head. 

Masa's eyes snap open — and the curse on his tongue withers at the exasperated fondness coloring Hide's expression.

"The time to re-evaluate your romantic delusions, is _not_ right after your boyfriend confesses he's in love with you. Get the hell over yourself, Dramagauchi-san."

Ignoring the nickname that Hide has obviously been saving for a while now, just waiting for an opportune moment, Masa grimaces at his friend.

"How about you get the hell off me first," he grouches. "Anyway, it's too late for re-evaluating when—"

A door opens on the landing one floor above. A clatter of footsteps — and an abrupt stop. 

Baba stares down at them.

Masa freezes. Hide has him practically pressed against the wall, and his own hands are on Hide's shoulders — to push him away. But Bachon doesn't know that.

The look on his face tears right through Masa's heart.

Then he's gone, footsteps echoing as they rapidly fade. 

"Believe it or not," Hide says, "I didn't actually plan that part."

Masa shoves him aside and sprints up the stairs. 

 

* * *

 

The blast of wind nearly knocks him back inside. The door catches against his shoulder, and Masa plants his foot firmly to keep it open. He squints out across the flat roof. 

Baba is standing on the far side, back resolutely turned.

He doesn't look up when the door clangs shut. Maybe the wind whisks the sound away, but Masa can plainly hear the traffic on the street — five stories below — and weather doesn't tend to be as selective as people's hearing.

"Bachon." His voice carries clearly enough. 

"I'm taking lunch up here." Baba doesn't turn around. "Won't interrupt you again."

He deserved that, Masa knows; it doesn't make the accusation sting any less. But he probably deserves that, too. "Don't people usually bring food when they're having lunch?"

"Not according to Hide-sama's definition of lunch."

"Hide's full of shit." Masa walks over to stand beside him. The surrounding buildings block whatever view there might have been, beyond the low concrete ledge. "I don't sleep with just anyone, you know."

The silence is long.

"I don't really feel like discussing Hide's virtues," Baba says. "Though I'm sure he has them, since you're so enamored."

Masa blinks. Then mentally slaps himself, realizing how that must have sounded. "That's not what I meant. And it wasn't — look, no one ever believes anyone saying this, but it seriously was _not_ what it looked like."

When Masa glances over, Baba meets his eyes. It startles him enough that he nearly looks away first. He stops himself. Partly for the accusation in the other man's expression. Mostly, because—

"You look like hell," Masa blurts, only now noticing.

It probably isn't the most diplomatic way he could have put it. Baba snorts and turns away, crossing his arms. "That's what happens when you can't sleep. Or so I've been told."

And Masa has never been good at admitting he's wrong. But guilt overrides even habit.

"I'm sorry." 

It's strange, how small those words sound when he actually says them out loud. Baba watches him from the corner of his eye.

"I was being an ass," Masa continues. "And — I understand if you don't want to talk to me right now. Or ever, honestly. I wouldn't blame you." He swallows the lump in his throat. "But I want you to know, at least. Because I'm sorry. I really am."

The pause that follows is the longest of his life. 

Baba lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, well," he says quietly, "so am I."

It's not forgiveness — not even close — but it's also not an outright rejection. Masa feels some knot in his chest start to unclench.

"Will you hear me out?" he asks, when Baba doesn't add anything else. "I think you deserve an explanation. And — I mean, I haven't slept much this past week either."

A pause.

"Hide's been keeping you up late, huh?"

"Seriously, even if you paid me I wouldn't—" Masa stops when the corner of Baba's lip twitches. "You know perfectly well I didn't give him that hickey."

"Yeah, I know. You can't lie for shit." _Not to me_ , he doesn't add.

Doesn't have to. Masa can't think about that just now. "Anyway, he's been spending so much time with Yuuta, I don't see how he even has time for—" And that's when it finally hits him. "Oh my _god_."

Baba raises an eyebrow at the look on Masa's face. "Guess you're not the only one with a Fuji problem?"

"Guess not," Masa says, before his brain catches up. "And shut up, I do not have a Fuji problem."

"No shame in it. You want what you want."

"I want a lot of things." Masa carefully folds his legs, lowers himself until he's sitting down, hands hooked over his ankles. The bandage on his scraped-up hand is looking distinctly worse for the wear. "It's kind of a long story."

After a moment, Baba sits as well. "I'm listening."

Masa picks at the tape on his bandage. Granted, this particular story has been on his mind, one way or another, for years — but he's never had to actually find the words, before now.

"I left home when I was fifteen," he begins. "You know that part. It wasn't like I was completely on my own, in Nagano, but there weren't a lot of people I was that close to — didn't have the time, between working my ass off in the studio and working shitty part-time jobs. The fact that anyone put up with me — I'm friends with Yuuta mostly because of him being an annoyingly persistent brat."

"Give yourself more credit." At Masa's look, Baba shrugs. "You're pretty annoyingly charming, when you want to be."

Masa cracks a smile. "Yeah, I know." The smile slips when he takes a deep breath. "Didn't feel that way at the time, though. Maybe that's why. I don't know. But the first person who showed even a little interest — I fell for him like a ton of bricks."

Baba gives him a sidelong glance. "Is this supposed to be an analogy?"

"No, it's — I mean, it's not what you think." The bandage is fraying at its edges; Masa curls his fingers over it. "His name was Keisuke. He was five years older than me, and he taught some of us when he wasn't studying with Segawa-sensei himself. It's stupid, and I know sensei probably put him up to it, as a whole mentoring exercise thing — but Keisuke helped me through a lot of shitty auditions. It was probably pretty obvious to everyone that I had a giant crush on him. Even Yuuta knew, apparently. So."

"Subtlety's not your strong suit, huh?" 

"Not really an asset, in our field." Masa drops his gaze to his hands. "Anyway, after this big show that the academy put on — Keisuke had one of the main roles, so we were all celebrating, and everybody was a little drunk, and one thing led to another and I—" 

His throat closes at that, which is ridiculous when he hasn't even said anything important yet. There's a part of him that's screaming _stop being such a fucking idiot already_ ; it sounds suspiciously like Hide.

Baba's voice is low. "He took advantage of you?"

Masa shakes his head. "No." One word at a time. "I let him." Three words, even. "He didn't do anything wrong. And I wanted to — I _needed_ him to like me, and I needed him to want to come back, so I just — I didn't tell him I'd never done it before. I probably should have. He was a nice guy, and maybe — I mean, it's all what-ifs now. But it was horrible. For me — and for him, too."

Silence.

"He said that to you?"

"Not in so many words." Masa feels his mouth twist in a wry grin. Funny, that this is the part he can smile at, when it's this part that still hurts, sometimes. "But the next time I got him alone, he made it pretty clear that it wouldn't be happening again. No point repeating something you didn't like, right?"

"You can't blame yourself for that," Baba nearly growls, and Masa's stomach flips; he might have expected exasperation, given Hide's reaction, but protectiveness — is not something he's prepared for. "If it was that bad, then it was his fault, too."

The fluttery feeling in his gut isn't going away. "Yes, well," he manages. "Either way, it screwed me up pretty good. Especially when he started avoiding me — he must've felt awkward about what happened, too," Masa adds hastily, at the look on Baba's face. "Anyway, he left for New York pretty soon after. I hated him for a long time. I blamed him for being the reason I couldn't seem to have a normal relationship. Except — I mean, I wasn't really trying. I slept around with people I didn't know, or people who knew I wasn't serious."

Masa tries not to hold his breath, waiting for the question—

"People like Furukawa?"

"Yeah. Like him."

The next pause is even longer. 

"And me?" Baba asks, so quietly it's nearly inaudible.

"No." Breathing out doesn't lessen the tightness in his chest. "You're different." It sounds so inadequate; it'll have to be enough, for now. "And it doesn't excuse what I did, but — when you said you'd never been with anyone before, it made me think of all that. I was mad you kept it from me, yeah, but I was horrified at myself that I didn't even think to ask. For a second, _I_ was Keisuke, and I just — I don't know. I freaked. And then I just kept making things worse, so I don't have much excuse, really."

When he flexes his hand, the entire bandage starts to come apart. He curls the end of a frayed strip around his thumb.

"I'm sorry for being an ass," he says. "You deserve better."

A hand covers his own. Masa looks up and finds that Baba has shifted so that they're facing each other.

"You're nothing like that guy," Baba says. "And I'm not like you, either."

Masa lets their fingers tangle together. "Can't blame me for worrying."

"Yeah, I can." Baba smiles faintly at his affronted expression. "I liked you enough that I definitely would've said something if it was _that_ bad. I wanted this to work. I wasn't just going to lie there and take it."

The comeback is a little too easy. "From what I remember, that's pretty much exactly—"

"Shut up. You know what I meant."

"Yeah." The next question, though, he's not so sure about. "But — how about now?"

"What about now?"

"Do you still—" He hesitates over the word. "You still like me enough to give me another chance? And do it right this time?"

For a long moment, Baba just looks at him. 

"Yeah," he says finally, not letting go of Masa's hand. "I'd like that."

The relief that floods through him is enough to make his knees go weak. Good thing they're sitting down anyway. His face hurts, suddenly, from how hard he's smiling. 

"Okay," he hears himself say. "Okay. Good."

Baba tugs lightly on his hand. "I think this is the part where you kiss me."

And yeah, Masa thinks, leaning in. This is definitely the part where he gets to feel that smile as well as see it again, and god but he's missed this, missed _knowing_ that he can have this, and who gives a fuck if they're on the roof and in plain view of other buildings and—

The thought occurs to him a split second before their lips meet.

"Better idea," Masa says, cutting off Baba's protest as he drags the other man to his feet.

And then all but drags him down three flights of stairs, slamming the hallway door open in his haste and not particularly caring about the stern lecture he'll probably get from the custodians (again) about respecting property. 

Baba eyes their location when Masa finally comes to a stop. 

"The restroom's right around the corner. Somebody's gonna walk by any second."

"Let them," Masa says, and kisses him. 

The bandage falls to the floor when Baba lets go of his hand to thread his fingers through Masa's hair. Masa rests his palms against Baba's hips, drawing him closer. 

It gets him a contented little sound, and Masa takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

"Oh, come _on_ ," says a voice. "Get a room, people."

Masa nibbles leisurely at Baba's lower lip before looking up to identify the person walking by. Ryuuki rolls his eyes at the both of them. "Seriously, I just walked in on Taito and Babaryo, which — ugh. When did 'lunch' become a universally accepted euphemism for 'quickie' anyway? And I thought Tsuji and Shouta were bad..."

Ryuuki and his disgruntled monologue disappear around the corner, fading as the restroom door swings shut. 

Baba looks at Masa. They burst out laughing simultaneously.

Masa kisses him again, just because he can. 

"I'm serious, you know," he says.

"Yeah," Baba breathes against his lips. "Good."

There's nothing hurried in the way Baba kisses him. Just an easy, deliberate kind of intent, and it's nothing like anything Masa remembers — but, he figures, there's time enough to get used to this, too. 

A door swings open.

Ryuuki sighs theatrically. "For real, guys. There's got to be like an empty supply closet around here _somewhere_."

 

* * *

 

**omake**

 

The clock reads 12:52. Masuda pops a lone party cracker.

Genki scowls at the cake he's holding. "Happy birthday."

"Um. Thanks. You didn't have to." Kane looks awkwardly around the otherwise empty dressing room. "Should I be on the lookout for people jumping out to ambush me with birthday pranks?"

"Don't bother," Genki grumps. "Goddammit, I _told_ them—"

"I think some things came up last minute," Masuda interjects. "But um, maybe we can make it up to you — over dinner?"

Masuda ignores the withering glare that Genki gives him as he hands over a slim envelope. Kane looks puzzled until he opens it to find a restaurant gift card. His expression clears to one of surprise.

"This is my favorite place."

"Yes. I mean, you mentioned it. Last week."

The tips of Kane's ears go pink.

"Thank you," he says gruffly.

Masuda clears his throat, not that it does anything to disguise his smile. "Happy birthday, Kane-san."

Genki puts down the cake and stomps out of the dressing room. "I'll go find a knife."


End file.
